


All for One, But One For All

by BumbleBooty



Series: Tumblr Inspired Fics [13]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Body Worship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Light Dom/sub, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild BDSM?, Mild Incest, Multi, Partner Swapping, Self-Denial, consentual partner sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 22:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumbleBooty/pseuds/BumbleBooty
Summary: Perceptor has been ignoring his heat, and now he is past the point where it could be handled by himself—so he gives himself over to the 'capable' mecha of the Arc.





	All for One, But One For All

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: https://maccadams-filthy-fills.tumblr.com/day/2017/09/15 as a gift for my friend Drifty.
> 
> I literally tried to pack as many ships/kinks as I could in this little package, so hopefully you can enjoy the variety and stuff like that.
> 
> Enjoy your Percy fix, and remember to always lick the scope.

Perceptor shifted nervously, his vents on high as he desperately tried to dump the excess heat from his frame. The early hours found him alone in his lab, avoiding the rec-room that would soon be flowing with mecha about to start the first shift. He shuddered as he shunted the errant code again, nearly dropping the beaker as another wave of  _need_  forced its way through his frame. He spent several minutes trying desperately to regain control, but finally managed to reactivate his optics. Only to find he had crumpled to the floor, whimpering in the puddle that had flooded from his valve when the cover snapped open. 

The microscope-turned-sniper gathered all the tiny bits of his shattered self-control, using them to claw his way back into a standing position as he gripped a rag in shaky servos. It only took a few seconds to wipe up the mess on the counter, and Perceptor easily measured out another dose to add to the concoction on the table. He just had to finish this slagging experiment... then he could get this  _over with!_ If Wheeljack hadn't gone to that pit-smelted conference he would be getting fragged  _right now,_  and  _Wheeljack_ could be doing this! However, that was not how fate operated. Perceptor had to finish this.  _For Science!_  Thenhe could get fragged!

The burner was set on high, and the needy scope slowly realized his helm was level with the burner again, and his servo was inching towards the unending itch that had taken over his valve-practically begging him to abandon his research and find a mate. One that could stretch him nice and wide, rubbing all the right nodes with that glorious spike and pound him into the desk like it was his first heat cycle all over again. By  _Primus_  did he remember that one... Wheeljack had left his valve with a  _very_  pleasant burn, and Perceptor was certain that particular table would never be perfectly level again. His optics shot open when the shrill timer sounded, and Perceptor keened as he forced his digits to slide out of the heated valve that  _obviously_  needed more attention than a little experi- ** _NO._**

With a growl, the scope wiped his servos off. A careful stir and another simmer -on low heat- and the solution settled within a few agonizing minutes. He carefully lifted the rapidly cooling vial, shakily stepping over to the dual-thermo conduction cage installed into the wall. Perceptor was careful to set the concoction carefully on the pedestal, sealing it shut and setting the temperature regulator to automatic. He signed heavily, wiping down his thighs and panel. He bit his lower lip, checking the code that was trying to force itself through his system once more. 

_Conception: Negative_

_Cycle Completion: 62%_

_Priority: Critical_

62%? By the pits! He could finish the cycle in a few joor with a decent partner...

Perceptor swiped his glossa over his lip, a devious smirk breaking free. His internal comm activated, and he sent a quick status ping to First Aid-which immediately returned with 'Active'.   _Aid, are you there?_  The message was brief. Nothing that would alarm the medic, and could be easily ignored by him if he were busy. However, Primus be blessed, he replied quickly.

_Yeah. Everything alright?_

_It will be soon. Tell any mech who does not wish to participate in a heat cycle to evacuate the rec room and report to you for blockers._

He could  _feel_  the combiner's amusement from here, and as soon as he received an affirmation ping his pedes were moving. For a scientist renowned for his record keeping, Perceptor didn't really process how long it took him to reach the recreation room. What he  _did_  process were all those prospective mates- ready to fill him and  _finally_  sate that burning need that had been scorching his insides for three fragging orn now. Percy barely managed to keep his wits and grace as he crossed the room. Upon reaching the cushioned 'entertainment' area- a spot beloved by those who enjoyed the human soap operas- he dropped to his knees, leaning over one of the larger cushions and popping his panel. 

He shuddered as lubricant gushed down his thighs; Perceptor couldn't help the soft whimper as he heard an interested engine rev from somewhere behind him. It only took a few short seconds before a much larger servo lightly slid up his back, a pair of digits sliding between the softened silica lips of his valve to test the resiliency. The purr told the increasingly desperate scope all he needed to know as two digits plunged inside of him. Heat covered his back just before lips trailed up the back of his neck, and Perceptor buried his face into the pillow. He shuddered as another set of lips began caressing his scope.  

Those delightful digits scissored his valve, earning a keen and a slight readjustment that tilted his hips into a more accessible position. A third digit quickly joined- slightly rushing the stretch, but the neglected mech didn't mind the mild burn. His legs were coaxed further apart as someone's glossa dipped into the cables in his throat. The digits thrust wonderfully in and out, and it didn't take long for Perceptor to desperately whine with the first of many overloads that washed through his system. 

He felt his lens readjust wildly as the digits were quickly removed. Perceptor didn't even have time to whimper before the blunt tip of a spike was rubbing between his valve's lips. The grip on his waist pushed him into the pillow slightly as the spike slid home, but the deep rumble from the other was  _distinctly_  familiar- Hound. The tracker's spike pulsed from within him, and Perceptor barely managed to online his optics as a delicate servo guided his face towards the owner's. Mirage gave him a flirtatious smile before stealing a kiss, shifting to kneel before Perceptor. Servos rested on his shoulders, holding him steady as the other mech fragged him from behind. Perceptor keened happily, releasing the pillow from his claws to reach for the blue hips before him. 

His servos were batted away, and a medical-grade Energon jelly was lifted to his lips in return. "Now, Perceptor. If you are going to volunteer for this kind of treatment, you must be certain you are...  _physically able._ " The treat carefully slipped past his lips, and Perceptor gratefully hummed as the jelly broke apart on his glossa. He chewed on the rapidly softening gel, trying his best not to reflexively swallow it whole as Hound continuously thrust from behind. 

It was pathetically easy to forget how to chew with each bolt of racing up his spine, and Percy just  _knew_  he was drooling all over the pillow he had claimed. He managed to swallow the jelly cube before the liquefying Energon escaped, but Mirage still shook his helm. "Look at this poor little thing, Hound. He's so desperate he can barely  _eat._ " Hound's engine rumbled as he bent further over Perceptor's back. Thicker, sturdier digits framed his chin, pulling his limp helm upwards as a rather strong overload damn near knocked him offline. 

The hazed pleasure certainly helped him relax into the mated pair's embrace, becoming more and more pliable as something pressed against his lips. Perceptor welcomed the intruder, the sweet-salty mix making him purr as it slid further into his mouth. After a second or two, Percy realized it wasn't a treat and his optics flickered back online. Mirage stroked his helm lovingly, the delicate pitch of his engine joining his lovers. Perceptor eagerly began to suck as the gel from the Energon goodie dripped from the spike, not bothering to hide his appreciative moaning. Hound nipped at his shoulder blades as he started to rut slightly faster, allowing his servos to drift upwards and stroke along Perceptor's jawbone. That gentle touch turned into a firm hold, and Percy couldn't help but moan loudly around Mirage's spike.

It was apparently appreciated by the former noble, who shifted his knees slightly and purred as he slowly began to frag Percy's face. Hound didn't last too much longer, seizing up as that first delightful spurt of transfluid washed throughout his valve. The soft pat on his side made Perceptor giggle around Mirage's spike, earning a quiet moan from the graceful mech looming above him. As soon as Hound pulled out he shifted to the side- Perceptor could hear Sideswipe laughing from behind him, and deduced that the more active twin would be taking his turn next. Sure enough, warm servos lovingly caressed his sides, and soft lips pressed a kiss to his lower back. 

There was very little preamble to the next spike sliding into him. Mirage leant forward to steal a kiss from his lover, but Perceptor paid them no mind- after all, he'd been given a task that he rather felt like finishing. He swirled his glossa around the tip, purring as his right servo was lifted off the pillow and guided to another hardened spike. He absently started pumping lightly, as to not raise Sunstreaker's ire by scuffing the paint. Perceptor tried his best to bounce back on the spike, shuddering as Sideswipe chuckled, licking a stripe up his back. Suddenly, Sideswipe's voice sounded to his  _right_. 

"Geez Sunny, you must be fraggin' him real good." Percy's optics reactivated as he pulled off the spike before him. Mirage laughed as the Scope whipped his helm towards the twins, earning mischievous laughter from Sideswipe. Sunstreaker just chuckled, hoisting Perceptor's hips up slightly to get a better angle. Sideswipe laughed again as Hound decided his lover had been shared enough, lightly tugging the noble away from the small group. Mirage wound up on his back on a nearby pillow, and Perceptor couldn't help but laugh as well as the noble was quickly ravished by his lover. Damn possessive trackers. 

Thankfully, he wasn't left alone. Perceptor had a pair of beautiful twins to play with now. Percy whined as Sunstreaker slid an arm around his waist, hoisting him up like a weightless doll and balancing him on his spike. He was splayed open beautifully for Sideswipe as the red twin got comfortable before him, and the red front-liner slid his arms around Percy as well.  It should have been embarrassing how he just snuggled in, kissing just under his chin. It wasn't a stretch to kiss his way up the smaller mech's jawline, nipping at his audial as one servo slid between his legs. "Ever take two spikes at once, dearest Percy?" 

He couldn't hide the dark flush as Sideswipe's servos pressed in beside his twin's spike and the golden frontliner effortlessly held the thinner frame aloft. Perceptor couldn't deny the edge of helplessness it added to the situation, but it was quickly overshadowed by Sunstreaker's gentle voice in his ear. "It's alright Perceptor. Sides and I will do all the hard work- you just relax and enjoy this. You've certainly earned it with how many times you've saved our afts on the field." The flush threatened to consume Perceptor as Sunstreaker pressed himself against Perceptor’s back, hungerly devouring what he could reach of his neck -still holding him up, may he add- and it took more effort than it usually required to squeak out a quiet "A-Anytime!". Perceptor would later attribute it to Sideswipe slipping in a third digit, spreading him wide enough to fit his own spike in beside Sunstreaker's. 

Even with all the physical similarities, Sideswipe was still very different from his brother. Sunstreaker showed his affection with quiet, calm kisses and seemingly endless strength.  Sideswipe showered Perceptor with non-stop praise, stroking and petting all the plating he could reach as lips caressed whatever they could touch. Once more his scope came under attack, both twins focusing on opposite ends of the sensitive magnifier until the pinned mech was quivering and oozing lubricant all over their thighs. Sideswipe claimed his lips in a crushing kiss, and Sunstreaker shifted his legs further apart to give Sideswipe a better angle to enter with. Perceptor believed he heard Beachcomber cheer with approval as Sideswipe pushed in with an affectionate rev. 

The pressure in his hips made Perceptor squirm, and both twins growled possessively in return... It must have felt amazing around their spikes. Sideswipe kissed him again, using a servo to turn his helm until Sunstreaker could join them for an uncharacteristically sloppy make-out. It did succeed in distracting the scientist from any pain, and the extra lubricant from the burning of the heat cycle eased any friction that could have damaged his valve. With their own special display of seamless teamwork, the two began to push and pull their newest lover, licking and kissing whatever came under their mouths as they gave a personal effort to make Perceptor forget his name. They did a rather good job too; within minutes the smaller scope was squirming and kicking his pedes, his spine arching and his valve rolling as he was overwhelmed with pleasure.

Sideswipe pressed closer, sandwiching the scope between him and his twin through weight alone as they switched it up a little bit- alternating their thrusts until there wasn't a single second where Percy could find solace from the barrage of pleasure. He tried his best to help the movements along, but the combined servos and glossa against any plating within reach was far too much. Perceptor willingly gave into the need to be a groaning, writhing mess between two handsome frontliners. 

The relentless barrage didn't even stop after he had overloaded- Sunstreaker just purred with the rippling of his valve and doubled his efforts. He quickly clicked at Sideswipe, earning a smirk and a mischievous chuckle. Perceptor barely had time to get nervous before his angle was shifted by Sideswipe, who gripped his upper thighs and yanked the delicate sniper towards him- only for Sunstreaker to yank him back, causing the scope to grind down hard against the spikes in his valve. The quick overload it caused took him by surprise, and Perceptor squealed as his optics forced a reset. He barely managed to get them back online before Sideswipe keened, bending forward and pushing his face into the smooth white neck before him as another heated stream of transfluid filled him to the brim. Perceptor shuddered hard as Sideswipe drug Sunstreaker over the edge with him, resulting in all three of them collapsing against the pillows in a steaming, sticky mess. 

Sideswipe was quick to recover -he was _always_ quick to recover- and he curled closer to claim a languid kiss from the scope. The soft rub of Sideswipe's softening spike was enough to coax Sunstreaker into motion and the both twins slowly pulled out. Perceptor moaned softly at the gaping emptiness of his valve, and Sunstreaker quietly stole a kiss of his own. Perceptor couldn't quite tell what the particular taste that lingered in Sunstreaker's mouth was, but the way their glossa rubbed together made him conveniently forget to ask for a sample for analysis. What he  _didn't_  miss was twin servos affectionately patting his stomach and chest as the two stood to leave. Perceptor remained on his back for a moment before the quiet pinging of his armor settled, and a wet sound spurred enough interest for the scope to raise his helm off of the (rather comfortable) recliner pillow. 

Ironhide was watching him  _intently_  from a nearby table, his servo steadily stroking over his spike. The rec-room was nearly empty now… first shift must have started. With only the red warrior, Drift, and a more than mildly amused Ratchet sitting beside the captivated ex-con. The heat coding purred within his processor as Ironhide forced himself to his pedes, grunting quietly as his knee creaked. Perceptor bit back a grin, shifting his legs apart as the smirk on the old warrior's faceplate grew. "Ain't 'cha a beaut Percy. These youngin's don' quite know how to satisfy a mech in heat, do they?"

 _That_  made Perceptor giggle, and the scientist ran his servos up Ironhide's forearms. Thick servos appeared on each side of his helm as Ironhide balanced himself, putting his weight on his heels as his servos gratefully scraped down the sensitive glass that made up Percy's chest armor. With a pleased hum, Ironhide softly stroked the scientist’s cheek with a reverent mutter of "A  _Real_ Beaut, Percy..."

Those confident servos gripped his pale blue thighs. Perceptor was gently tugged into a much more comfortable position- with pedes on either side of Ironhide's waist, his back at a more natural angle, and his hips resting atop Ironhide's thighs. 

With a hungry purr, Perceptor was quickly breached. His spinal strut arched, and the unusually shaky servos gripped the pillow beneath him. Ironhide kept pressing into him, more and more and more until he was effortlessly grinding against the sticky plug of Perceptor's gestation chamber. The seal had been quickly absorbing any transfluid that had entered his frame, and the scope was certain he would have a rather nice bulge in his abdomen once the base processing was completed and the purified nanites were tanked.

The older mech ground his spike in a slow circle to test the resilience of the softened silica. Movement to Percy's right almost got his attention, but Ironhide had chosen that moment to quickly withdraw before bucking forwards with enough force to jostle him up the pillow a bit. Perceptor outright squealed with the sharp burst of pleasure, his optics falling offline in tandem with the first beat of a merciless rhythm. The rapid thrusting left him clawing and scrabbling at both the pillows and Ironhide's armor. After a few more thrusts, his struts decided not to hold up his helm, and it lolled uselessly to the side as oral lubricants began to drip from the corner of his mouth. A low whistle preceded a breathless chuckle, and a scarred servo moved to grip his open shoulder- keeping him in place as he was thoroughly fucked by the older mech. 

Perceptor had mild issues finding the proper code to reactivate his optics, but eventually succeeded. Drift was kneeling a few feet away, watching closely as the microscope was slowly fucked higher onto the wedge pillow. After a brief fight with his suddenly frozen servos, Perceptor managed to pry one free of red plating -he couldn't help the slight wave of satisfaction that came from seeing small dents in the reinforced armor- and the sniper reached out to Drift. His servo was taken ever so gently… like he was suddenly glass that was too delicate to break, and the gentle lips against the back of his servo made the flush on his faceplate deepen to a record-breaking shade. His optics fluttered offline once more as Ironhide shifted his stance, forcing himself into a group of particularly  _lovely_  nodes with a regular interval that quickly sent the pleasure into a sharp spiral. 

Ratchet's voice drifted into his audial, snorting with utter amusement, "Just  _kiss_   _him_. He wouldn't have commed First Aid with a warning if he didn't  _want_  this." The indecision on Drift's face made his spark spin and he clenched the bot's servo a little tighter. This seemed to be enough for the pale bot, and Perceptor's lips were claimed before he could blink. The gentle, aimless kiss was a stark contrast from the purposeful thrusting Ironhide had released upon his valve. Perceptor peeled his other servo from the elder bot's arm to slip both around Drift's neck, purring into the tangle their glossae had become.

The natural progression of the kiss found Drift slowly creeping down Perceptor's frame to touch and taste anything he could. Everything from the tang of the coolant on his brow to the polish on his slide aperture stage. Ironhide purred as he stroked down Drift's helm, using a light grip to guide him down to the scope's midriff. The inquisitive look was answered by Ratchet, who knelt on the opposite side of Perceptor’s frame. "His stomach should be getting sensitive. All that transfluid should be processing, and he's already starting to swell." Drift's optics drifted downwards; his audials perked upwards as he noticed the slow-growing swell in Perceptor's abdomen. 

With a hesitant glance to Ironhide -who nodded his approval- Drift bowed his helm to softly kiss Perceptor's stomach. The microscope gasped at the tingle, arching his back and shifting his pedes further apart. Ratchet used one servo to help support the spread and Drift quickly moved to support the other leg. He didn't stop mouthing at the growing bulge in Percy's stomach, licking and scraping his dentae down the malleable armor with a reverent determination. Ironhide sat back to give the mech more room to work and Ratchet took to giving the ever-sensitive lens some thorough attention. Nimble digits dug into sensitive transformation seams, and Perceptor began to wonder if he should praise or chastise First Aid for telling Ratchet where he was.

Perceptor's mouth gaped open as Drift pressed on his stomach, forcibly shifting the fluid trapped within. He bucked towards the pressure -earning a pleased groan from Ironhide- and Drift flashed his pointed canines in a breath taking smile when Perceptor's optics offlined once more. Ratchet plucked at the wires in his shoulders like the best of musicians, setting a sturdy servo against his chest plate to hold the increasingly desperate scientist flat. "That's right Percy. Just take what we're givin’ ya." 

A pair of lips met his own, and Perceptor purred as best he could with the other distractions before him. He could feel Ironhide's grip threatening to dent his pelvis, the pressure being softly licked away by a submissive Drift. Ratchet's digits were digging under tight plating, opening him up to the air and checking various hotspots for damage. The medic continued to kiss him stupid and didn't stop until Perceptor keened a pathetic whine. Electricity shot over his frame and the scientist wound up completely limp against the pillows as Ironhide gave a few last thrusts.

The heat that filled him was far greater than his previous partners, and some of the transfluid leaked out before Ironhide was even finished. The old warrior groaned quietly, leaning in and nuzzling the smooth glass. With a kiss and a soft pat to his left side, Ironhide pulled out of Perceptor and forced himself to his pedes. "Frag that felt good... Maybe more mechs should do this when they have heat cycles." Perceptor could hear Ratchet's laughter, but at this point the world was spinning much too fast and his coding seemed too jumbled to locate his optical feed. 

Drift's thin servos traced over his helm and trembling lips pressed to his own. "Ratch, he's really hot. Is that supposed to happen?" Ratchet's thicker servos pressed alongside Drift's own and a thoughtful hum came from above. "Not this hot... He's probably running low on fuel. Let's take him back to our quarters and clean him up a bit- get some Energon in him and he'll be more than ready for a few more rounds." The samurai didn't say anything in return and Perceptor's world went dark as sturdy arms slid under his legs and back.

When he came to, his fuel tank registered as full. His body was heavy and warm, sinking into the berth beneath him with a pleasant warmth buzzing through his frame. He eventually registered gentle servos stroking over his chest and helm, soft exvents irregularly washing over his neck. Perceptor fought the grogginess from his processor, one by one locating the codes to online his base systems. Olfactory sensors onlined first, and Perceptor's spark fluttered when he realized he was surrounded with the smell of mild polish and sanitizer. 

 His audials came online next, and half-panicked bickering slowly filtered into his processor. "- _ure_  he's okay? You said he would be up like, _ten kilks ago_." "I'm positive  _youngin'._  Chief Medical Officer, remember? His tank was just lower than I guessed. He's full now, and he'll wake up when he's good and ready." A gentle servo traced over his helm and a weight settled on his unmounted shoulder with a sad keen. His optics slowly began to boot; the blurry image of a pale ceiling eventually trickling into his mind. A red blur appeared in his vision a moment later and a flash of teeth quickly followed. "Speak of the devil, huh? I think he's coming out of it." 

The weight on his shoulder -no, Drift's helm- shot up, and the clearing image of the pointier mech hover just above his focus. Soft servos caressed his cheeks, and Drift leant forwards to press a soft kiss to his helm. "Gave us a scare there Percy."

Ratchet snorted, rolling his optics. "Gave  _him_  a spark-attack." The glare that was immediately shot at the medic made Perceptor shudder out a breathless laugh, and the medic just kissed his new lover's cheek with a playful rev. Perceptor let his body boot normally, enjoying the warm fields shimmering over his body. 

With his frame still lagging, Perceptor was content to talk. "Mmm...Passed out, didn' I?" Ratchet nodded, and Drift purred quietly. "What made you want to just... Bend over in the rec room?" Perceptor grinned, leaning into Drift's helm slightly. "My cycle was at 62 percent- finished my experiment and assumed I could get all this done faster if I had several partners."

Ratchet quirked a brow, but nodded approvingly. "Where ya at now?"

It took Perceptor a moment to reboot the HUD, but eventually a line of code pinged his processor. "87%." The scope frowned, sighing heavily. "I really figured I would be further along..." Drift hummed, stroking the swell of Perceptor's stomach. His stomach was far firmer than he remembered, and with a quick glance down the swelling was confirmed. 

Ratchet's servo joined Drift's on Perceptor's stomach, and the scope could feel the heat wash through his frame once more.  Ratchet's engine purred deeply, and Perceptor's lens shuffled through various strengths. Drift's voice was quiet, but more than enough to get Perceptor's attention. "Do you still feel up to some fun?" Perceptor giggled, and Ratchet shook his helm in amusement.

Perceptor just forced himself into a sitting position, then slid forward to slip his arms around Drift's neck. "Oh, that depends I suppose...How much fun are we talking~?" 

Drift's faceplate flushed a dark blue, and before he could respond Perceptor had covered his lips with his own. It was easy for Ratchet to help push Drift onto his back, and the lean mech grinned mischievously as he braced his forearms against Drift's chest. Drift hesitantly placed his servos on Perceptor's waist, coaxing the scope into a kiss. Perceptor purred as Ratchet shuffled behind him, adjusting to recline back beside the two. With a gentle pat to Perceptor's side, he settled in to enjoy the show. 

The two didn't pay too much attention to the old medic as they kissed, servos slowly exploring each other's frames with a decreasing leisure. Glossae twined with hot breath, dull servos sharpened as shallow trenches were taken from armor, and hips randomly ground together until the heat and seeping slickness forced the panels to retract. 

Drift's servos started to slide down Perceptor's sides, but they were quickly rerouted to his stage holder. Drift opened his mouth to question the smirking scientist, but the words died when a wet heat slowly engulfed his spike. 

Drift groaned as Perceptor's effortlessly sank to the hilt, grinding in a smooth circle and stroking his servos over the smooth white chest plate beneath him. The heat coding was slowly rising the temperature more and more with each thrust until the two felt a small inferno under their plating. Perceptor bent down to press his lips against Drift's throat, and the ex-con happily turned his helm to give him room. 

When he burst out laughing, Perceptor pushed himself upright to see what was so funny. The funny thing  _just so happened_  to be Ratchet. The mech had already fallen asleep where he had laid down, chest rising and falling with a smooth rhythm. Perceptor doubled over laughing, shuddering as the motion forced Drift a fraction deeper into his valve. The resulting shudder coaxed both back into action. Perceptor shifted his servos to the center of Drift's chest, helping him balance as he bounced on the hardened spike. Drift assisted the return of pleasure by grasping Perceptor by the waist and bucking upwards whenever the natural motion brought him back down. 

Perceptor's helm rolled back with a happy sigh, prompting Drift to sit up and quickly shift their positions. Even with Percy still bouncing on his lap, the ex-con was able to bury his face into the cabling before him and inhale the sweet scent of a heat cycle. Perceptor looped his arms around Drift's neck, nuzzling him until his helm was raised enough for the scope to steal a kiss. 

That seemed to be too much for the white and red mech. Drift locked up with a deep moan, and Perceptor ground down against the stiff housing of Drift's spike. When the heat finally bloomed within him, Perceptor purred. Drift's transfluid seemed hotter than the rest, but it also seemed to be thinner than the transfluid of the other mecha that had recently been in his valve. With an interested hum, Perceptor stroked a digit over a pointed audial. "W-Well...That's an interesting feeling. I should sample some for research later~..." 

Drift's faceplate flushed a dark blue, and he squeaked out a horrified laugh. "Don't  _experiment_  on my  _transfluid!_ " A bark of laughter sounded next to them, and Ratchet stroked a servo up Perceptor's side. His voice was slightly gravelly from sleep, but neither minded the rough tone as the older medic sat up. Perceptor's thighs shook as he tipped back, still sitting on the deflating spike. Drift allowed himself to slide back onto the berth, gently stroking over Ratchet's spine with a happy flux of his field. 

"He's still kinda hot Ratch. Are you  _well rested_  enough to give him a go?"

The medic shot the snickering mech a dirty look, but dismissed it in favor of catching Perceptor's chin between his digits. "Well, I think I've got a round or two in me. How about you get off that spike and let me show you what experience feels like." Perceptor purred happily, lifting himself off Drift's spike, easily ignoring the unhappy groan from the recumbent mecha. 

Ratchet moved into action as soon as the head popped free, and crawled forwards to force the scope onto his back. Lips instantly connected to his throat, and the squeal Perceptor let loose coaxed a laugh out of Drift. The squeal quickly dissolved into a moan, and deft servos quickly crawled up his armor- easily plucking sensitive wiring, stroking over pressure-sensitive nodes, and Perceptor honestly couldn't think of a single mech that had ever gotten him that hot that fast. 

The medic chuckled as he kissed his way up Perceptor's throat, licking and nipping until he could claim the swollen lips as his own. Perceptor spread his legs with a purr, slipping them around Ratchet's waist to coax him to mount up. The medic easily pressed their frames together, but ignored the attempts to get his spike in Perceptor's valve. Instead, Ratchet kissed Perceptor slowly- caressing his jaw and neck, sliding down a little bit to thumb along the airlock of his stage. "You're so needy Percy. If you wanted a quick frag, you should have stayed on Drift's spike." The scandalized gasp was effortlessly ignored.

Ratchet shifted to kiss his way up Perceptor's scope, but didn't just gloss over it like so many others. Each millimeter of plating on the sensitive finder was chronicled by Ratchet's lips, and the hot exvents that seeped into the specialized appendage quickly led to a strut locking overload. With optics temporarily offline, Ratchet took advantage of the moment to quickly cuff the scope's servos to the nondescript hook nestled into the wall. With his path now unobstructed, Ratchet grinned wickedly. 

He started from the helm- a soft touch to his audial, a gentle kiss on Perceptor's lips, a lick to his cheek and a nip to his jaw. Perceptor half groaned as he arched into the touches, grinding his hips against Ratchet's own as he used his pedes to stroke the white thighs between his legs. Ratchet easily ignored him, continuing down Perceptor's frame with a hunger. As dentae tested the seal on the protective glass of his chest, servos trailed down to the black hips to hold them still. Ratchet toyed with the mech even more as punishment, kissing up each arm to kiss each knuckle, digit, palm, and back down the arms to lick and nip a path back to Perceptor's stomach. With a long lick against more sensitive transformation seams, Ratchet had the scope on edge once again within minutes. 

Ratchet snorted an amused chuckle and Perceptor simply responded with a desperate keen. Ratchet looked up the hot, condensation covered frame, and lovingly rested his helm on the red abdominal plating. "Want something, Percy?"

The scope shot him a glare that could melt plating clear off a protoform. "Stop fragging around and  _frag me!_ "

Ratchet hummed, kissing the softer plating once more as he turned to the supine samurai. "What do you think, Drift? Should I take him, or have a taste?" Drift hummed, and Perceptor keened desperately once more. Drift shook his helm, rolling his optics playfully. "Oh, just take him already. He  _has_  been very good for us..."

Perceptor shuddered his lenses once more as Ratchet pushed himself into a kneeling position. "Oh, I suppose you're right. Either way, He should only have a few overloads left in him." With a stolen kiss, aged servos slid between dripping lips- spreading them to reveal the clenching valve, rolling and desperate for pleasure. Drift sat up, leaning in to purr his appreciation. The younger mech gripped Ratchet's spike, and the medic rolled his optics as it was happily stroked. 

"Niiice." Drift muttered quietly, kissing the blunt tip. It was easy for him to line the spike up with the hungry valve. Perceptor stamped his pede against the berth, whining loudly against the teasing. He opened his mouth to bitch at the pair once more, but then damn near screamed when Ratchet plunged into the hilt with one sharp push. The pitched wail dissolved into a moan as Ratchet began to move, and by  _primus._ Ratchet was far from the biggest spike he had ever taken, but the medic's knowledge of a frame and sheer experience had him hitting all the right spots at all the right angles- even if Drift burst into laughter when his spine bent about six thrusts in. 

The mech dropped back with a cheer of "Woooorld recorrrd!"- Ratchet ignored him, powering through the overload. The pace kept the microscope deeply submersed in pleasure, clawing at the softened metal of the headboard. Drool dripped from his chin as Ratchet _kept **going**_ , and Drift quickly got bored being an observer. After an approving nod, Drift unhooked Perceptor's servos. Gently massaging the other's shoulders while the struts relaxed, Drift slid himself behind the slim mech to nuzzle and kiss any plating that was available. Servos stroked over Perceptor's stomach and knees pressed against his back, supporting the position for Ratchet to up the ante. 

Red servos shifted to hold Perceptor's waist once more, and Ratchet leaned over him to steal a kiss. The positional shift earned another squeal, and the black helm thumped happily against Drift's shoulder. Perceptor's servos drifted up to pet Ratchet's helm, and the medic grinned as the arms fully looped around his neck. He could feel his own end surging closer with each push and responding ripple of the luscious silica encasing him. Those precise servos spun into action once more to tug and pull sensitive wires, and Perceptor found himself screeching with the newest release. 

Oddly enough, Perceptor noticed he didn't instantly heat back up- instead, he was acutely aware of each millimeter of Ratchet's spike thrusting within him, each shaky breath the older medic took, each  _adorably_ muffled groan leading up to the medic's own washing of heat. 

Ratchet was absolutely palatable when he came. He made a soft, breathy moan and never clenched his servos hard enough to dent- a perfectly quiet overload, in Perceptor's opinion. Two sets of servos guided the medic to the scope's chest, and Perceptor squeezed his legs around Ratchet's waist tightly. Only to regret the decision immediately when a torrent of transfluid sloshed from his valve. The utterly horrified look was met with a tired chuckle from the smug mech on his chest. 

"Medical override. Knew you should be getting tired. Dumped my entire tank for ya." Ratchet kissed under the scope's chin with a happy purr and Drift dissolved into giggles once more. The scientist groaned, lulling his helm back with a frown. Drift kissed his cheek, nuzzling him as a spike pressed against the curve of his back. The two engineer-esque mecha traded a glance, and Drift's laughter was promptly cut off when Ratchet's servo pressed his spike to Perceptor's back. A nervous face appeared over Perceptor's shoulder, and the two mech just grinned wickedly- After all, it wasn't fair to leave a mech hanging.


End file.
